"Well, yes, the thought did occur to me."
"I trust you. You've never cheated on me before and you're not going to cheat on me now, right?"
"Yes, baby, you know that's true!"
"And you know that if you ever did, I'd make your life an ever-living hell, right?" She had that half smile on her face that said, "I'm saying this to sound funny, but I'm not kidding."
"Yes I do!" I walked over to her, put my arms around her waist, and said, "Honey, I have never met a woman who measures up to you and I know I never will. I have no desire for ground beef when I have steak at home."
"And don't you forget it. Now, you make sure that Bob stays sober enough to get the job done and you remember you have a wife waiting for you with a zero-tolerance policy at home. Don't you drink so much that you forget where you get fed on a regular basis, you understand?"
The woman never ceases to surprise me and that is how the five of us came to find ourselves renting a ridiculously big, multi-bedroom suite overlooking some prime beach real estate. Now, I have to be honest with you. I have never cheated on my wife and I never will. I meant every word I said to her. Nowhere will I ever find a woman that compares to Cheryl and I'm not looking. That said, I started wishing that we'd brought some binoculars to the beach. I mean, damn! There was a whole lot of tight, young skin on that beach and precious little cloth to get in the way. Ben said it best, "If the bathroom door is closed later, don't even knock." We all knew what he meant, and we each knew that sooner or later we'd be in there trying to relieve the stress of this innocent little vacation.
It turned out that Bob didn't need our help that first night or ever. He was slow to agree when we first suggested the trip, but once he came around to it, he was a man on a mission. We never had to tell him the purpose of the trip other than to suggest he needed to get away, because once he got there the hound was loose. The three of us were never in danger of cheating on our wives; we had that befuddled look of married men too long out of the game and there was no shaking it. Women saw our wedding rings, smiled, walked right past us, and asked Bob and Henry to dance. The women flirted shamelessly, and the two men encouraged them. Okay, Henry was a little older and he was carrying a few extra pounds, but there were some older divorcees who took to Henry like a mouse to cheese. Meanwhile, Bob was still a young man in his prime. I swear some of the women who approached him were not even close to being legal age and we warned him to card those girls before he got himself arrested. I guess Bob was getting over his pain because he just smiled and walked those girls out on the dance floor two and three at a time.
"Boys, we are in the presence of greatness." That was all Jason had to say and we knew it was true.
The old married guys, and believe me that is exactly how we felt, headed back to the suite around ten while Bob and Henry were taking full advantage of the evening. We were sitting in the living room, talking trash and drinking beer, when first Henry and then Bob arrived back with their "dates" by their side. We tried to keep it from becoming awkward, but it was never really a problem.
Henry's date was a divorced woman named Claire in her late thirties. She made small talk for a minute or two, gave Henry the look, blew us a kiss, and followed Henry into his room. "You're on your own for breakfast." was the last thing Henry said as he disappeared behind his door. Henry is not the type to kiss and tell, but the walls were thin, and it soon was clear to everyone that he was getting the job done.
Bob arrived maybe thirty minutes later. His date was young and nubile. Okay, truth is she took our breath away. She said hello, giggled, and pushed Bob into his room. If Henry was getting the job done, Bob was moving heaven and earth.
When the enthusiasm from behind those two closed doors became too much for us, we each retreated to our rooms for quiet contemplation and stress relief. I mean, we're each happily married, but we're not immune to what we were hearing. When I arose early the next morning, I took a cold shower, got dressed, and knocked on the doors of the other married men. We each had the same idea and that was to get out of the suite before the two couples started up again. We failed, and we could hear them as we walked out the front door and into the morning sun.
The three of us, Ben, Jason, and myself, spent our day at the beach like married men have been spending it for generations: we took a long walk along the surf, a cold swim in the ocean, had lunch where we could watch all the sweet young things, and we played miniature golf. Seriously, we were married and we each wanted to stay that way.
When we met up later with Bob and Henry, it seemed our objective for the trip had been achieved once over. Bob's date had moved on leaving Bob with a smile that refused to go away while Henry's date, Claire, was still with him. And she was with him that night and the next day, too. Bob, on the other hand, came home that night with yet another nubile young thing leaving the three married guys to listen to the rhythms and the harmonies of the night. We married guys went to bed early, agreeing to get a jump on the next day with a little offshore fishing.
All this while, we were checking in with our wives. We each took a "full disclosure" approach that included photographs of our bachelor lunches, our walks on the beach, and our miniature golf, promising our wives that we were behaving ourselves, and giving them an abundance of details about the exploits of our single friends. If only we had left it at that.
I'm not proud of this, but we chose that second night to make a brief video recording with one of our cell phones that clearly showed three married guys sitting around doing nothing that they needed to apologize for. However, it may just be the case that we chose a moment when the sound of passion coming from the two bedrooms was particularly loud. Beer may have been involved in that decision. We sent it to our wives to prove that we were being good. There were discussions about this when we got home.
To my surprise, the drive home was quiet. Three of us wanted desperately to ask questions about things we had no business knowing, and the two of them just sat there smiling like the Cheshire cat.
When I got home, I had a short, but very sincere discussion with my wife.
"Did you behave yourself?"
"Yes, mam."
"Completely? No kissy face, no groping, no fingers where they didn't belong?"
"Completely! And to be perfectly truthful about it, Bob and Henry were scooping up all the available women so fast that we never had a chance." Okay, even I knew that was the wrong thing to say. My wife was giving me the stink eye. "Not that we wanted. I'm just saying those two guys were an inspiration to us all! I never knew being single could be like that." She was looking less pleased with every word. "What I mean is..."
"Never mind. If you say you behaved yourself, I believe you." She took my hand and began to walk. "Now come with me."
"Where are we going?"
"I read all your text messages and I saw the photographs from your little holiday, and I think one of us needs to get laid. You probably need it, too."
My god, I love this woman!
Life moves on with it's twists and turns. Bob was feeling a lot better after our holiday at the beach, but it was Henry's life that changed most quickly. I wouldn't recommend marrying a one-night stand you met in a bar, but Henry was always full of surprises. It turned out that Claire was a keeper. In the year since her divorce from a cheating husband, she had been celibate. She took her time getting her life in order after the upheavals of divorce. She told us she wasn't one to go to bars, and never alone, but that night she'd decided it was time to kick up her heels a little and set out to dance. Somehow, she quickly saw in Henry the caring and patient man we all knew and decided to claim him for her own. They were married a year after our trip to the beach and both seem entirely happy with the decision.
Bob progressed a bit more slowly. His wild nights at the beach got something out of his system or restored something he was missing. Either way, he began to feel whole again and came to view the bitch in the same way the rest of us viewed her: she was a colossal mistake that he could leave behind. He met and bedded the occasional sweet young thing, he seemed to have a way with young women, but generally waited for the divorce to be final before attempting any more serious endeavors. Dating in your early thirties is not what it was in your early twenties and the selection of women your own age can be challenging. It was a year after his divorce was final that he met Marie. She had a son from her first marriage and an ex-husband who was gone to parts unknown. His first marriage taught him to take his time, and her own disastrous first marriage taught her to be skeptical of the men she met, but when he introduced her to us, we quickly agreed that this one, too, was a keeper. They eventually settled down and got married. Bob adopted Marie's son and is now the only father the boy remembers. To cap it off, they now have a daughter to round out their family. Bob and Marie have created four happy lives where once there was only loss and they are a joy to be around.
The bitch did not do as well. She married for money, but money doesn't comfort you at night. Nobody but her was particularly surprised, but when you marry a man who screws another man's wife you aren't marrying much in the way of integrity. About two years after they got married, she caught him banging his new secretary in much the same way he had been banging her. She soon found herself divorced with a full bank account and an empty bed. She was a topic of conversation within our little group for maybe twenty minutes with Cheryl, Claire and Marie showing the greatest fascination with the story, and then our attention drifted back to children, the steaks on the grill, and good friends. The bitch was generally forgotten after that.
In the year between Bob's divorce and his meeting Marie, one of our favorite topics of conversation was a series of convoluted revenge scenarios for the bitch's second husband. He offended our sensibilities and our plans grew ever more complicated with each beer we consumed. In the morning, those plans were generally forgotten, and we were free to dream up new and ever more imaginative revenge plots that would right this hideous wrong. While we planned, his secretary's husband took action, and for that the aggrieved husband got a six-month sentence from a sympathetic and apologetic judge. We all agreed that when he got out, it was our solemn duty to take him to the beach for a long weekend where he could explore his possibilities and find new opportunities, and that is exactly what we did.
